


Slay Me

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anniversary, Blow Jobs, Community: daily_deviant, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Puns & Word Play, Semi-Public Sex, random pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville is uncomfortable being known as The Boy Who Slays Snakes… unless you’re referring to a particular sort of snake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slay Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Daily Deviant's March prompt of a canon anniversary. I knew I wanted to do an anniversary of a canon events; I love seeing how those affect characters. I had originally thought of doing something super serious, then this popped into my head and out it came. Really, I just love Neville.

Neville hates being on display.

It’s been ten years since the war ended, and he still loathes the way people look at him like he’s something special simply because he grabbed a sword and did what any decent bloke would’ve done. He fidgets where he stands on the makeshift stage, shifting from foot to foot and glancing at Harry, who stands nearby. Harry flashes him a small smile, and that helps a bit; Neville knows that Harry isn’t any more comfortable with this than he is.

But it’s been _ten years_ since they did their part and that has to be recognized, so Neville does his best to make it through.

He and Harry aren’t the only ones on stage today. Most of the Order and the DA are there, along with several people who have been instrumental in changing the world since the war ended, like Draco Malfoy. _He_ seems perfectly comfortable, robes snapping about his feet as he steps forward to humbly accept an award for having worked diligently to promote unity among the Muggles and the Wizarding folks for these last years. Neville snorts inwardly to see that humility projected for public view; Draco has _never_ been truly humble, and never will be.

The ceremony feels interminably long, and by the time they are done his feet ache and he’s sure he’s sweated through his robes. He ducks his head and makes it off stage before anyone else, slipping into a quiet corner to inhale a rough, deep breath out of view of the crowd.

“Did someone see a snake-slayer come this way?” Draco’s voice rings out and it is almost enough to make Neville smile through the tension that is slowly dissipating. There’s another low voice answering him, and Neville doesn’t move when the footsteps approach.

This isn’t the crowd anymore, this is the one thing in all of this that is safe for him.

He looks up, meets Harry’s worried gaze and Draco’s smirk.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” Draco says, tone light and amused. “You have a public, Neville, and they will coming hunting if you do not make an appearance. Time to press hands and kiss babies.”

“Nev, are you all right?” Harry touches his hand and Neville feels breath shudder through him. He manages to nod, but it doesn’t seem to appease Harry who only moves closer. “It won’t be long before we’re done. Just a little bit of good publicity, then we’re done for another year and can go home.”

“Mm.” Draco raises one eyebrow, sidling in close enough to almost fit between them both. He has one hand on Harry’s arse, and the other at the small of Neville’s back. “Soon enough we can go home and you can slay _my_ snake,” he smirks.

Despite himself, Neville snorts in soft laughter. “That’s awful.”

The eyebrow lifts higher. “Do you deny that you _want_ my snake?”

“I’m actually quite fond of your snake,” Neville retorts. “But I don’t want to _slay_ it.”

“They do call it _la petite mort_ ,” Draco reminds him. “The little death indeed. Consider me slain on a regular basis. Although I must admit, if we are discussing _monstrous_ snakes, the only one of those I know is your own. Perhaps I ought to be the one known for handling large snakes.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Harry’s laughing now, his body vibrating against Neville’s and he draws him close, taking comfort from the feeling. No one can see them here, and Neville hopes no one can hear them either. It’s certainly not an appropriate conversation for a family-friendly event.

“I am indeed, and you do quite enjoy when I incorrige you.” Draco wiggles his eyebrows once before his expression goes serious, hand lifting to touch Neville’s cheek. “I think our Neville needs some help relaxing, Harry. We can’t let him go out in this state. He’s fit to make diamonds from a lump of coal.”

“I regret showing you that film,” Harry mutters, but he’s already working the buttons of Neville’s robes while Draco raises his wand and the sounds of the crowd fade away. There’s a darkness around them that isn’t just the shadows any more, as if they stand within their own little pocket of reality.

“Focus on Neville,” Draco says, pocketing his wand before putting his hand on Harry’s head and nudging him downwards. Harry hits his knees and looks up, tugging Neville’s pants down under his cock and balls just in time for Draco to join him.

Draco runs his fingers along Neville’s length and his prick twitches slightly, starting to fill with blood. He can feel the cool breeze of the outside air even though the world seems to have faded away. “We can’t do this,” Neville tries to protest, voice slightly strangled because he doesn’t actually want to _stop_.

“Perhaps we _shouldn’t_ ,” Draco murmurs. “But we most certainly _can_.” His tongue laps at the soft skin over Neville’s hard length, sliding along the now rigid prick to find the head, lapping at the tip. “And I shall share, Harry, never fear.”

“Just let us take care of you,” Harry whispers, meeting Draco for a quick kiss before Harry takes the head of Neville’s prick into his mouth.

All those years at Hogwarts and all those fantasies he had once upon a time, yet Neville had never realized that this was what he would come to, that _this_ is what he would have. His prick stretches Harry’s mouth wide, making his lips red and his cheeks flushed as Neville just barely tilts his hips, thrusting into the wet warmth. There’s no way for Harry to take him all in, but Draco makes up for it, licking along him, soaking him and keeping him warm, wanking him with one slick hand.

Neville makes a strangled noise, widens his stance to keep stability without something to lean back against. He reaches down, tangles his hands in their hair, holds on for dear life. “Merlin,” he whispers, and Draco huffs a small laugh, then sucks one of his bollocks into his mouth and oh _fuck_ but that feels good. “Don’t stop.”

This is horribly inappropriate. This is a joyous occasion, yes, but also a solemn one with the memorial reading of those who died in the final battle still to come. But this is taking Neville’s mind very quickly off of the idea of standing in front of people; he focuses instead on the two men kneeling before him and just how _good_ they make him feel, how fucking _perfect_ they are for him. His hips tilt again, and Harry and Draco share the attempt to keep him wet and warm and fucking into something. 

“Take care of each other, too,” he whispers, and in moments they have their robes rucked up and are jerking each other off, hands wrapped around pricks, saving their mouths for him. It’s so fucking beautiful and Neville feels his orgasm rising, tensing in his thighs, his heels planted firmly against the earth as the orgasm rises out of him with a low groan and a rush of sticky fluid. It’s too much for Harry, and Draco leans in to kiss Harry deeply as Neville pulls back to watch.

It’s only moments later before Harry groans softly, and Draco follows not long after that, both spilling on the ground beneath their knees. Neville tries to catch his breath in the wake, wanting to see how beautiful they both are together like this. His fingers loosen in their hair, caress their heads gently; he smiles when Harry looks up to meet his gaze with a fond grin.

Neville reaches for Harry, his thumb at the corner of his mouth to wipe away a bit of white fluid that remains there. Draco comes to his feet beside them, wand in hand. “Give me just a moment,” Draco murmurs, and magic washes over them all to clean them up and do up buttons, laying their robes flat again until they are all presentable. Neville wiggles a bit under the touch—it always feels like Draco’s fingers to him, but by now the sensation is familiar and well-loved.

“Feeling better?” Draco captures Neville’s hand, squeezes lightly. He smirks when Neville only sighs and nods as a response. “Well then, stand here and recover, and I shall go steal your limelight until you return to the crowds. Because once you two emerge, no one will remember me again. Forever in your shadow.” He cradles Neville’s head, leaning in to kiss him slowly, then sharing another kiss with Harry, licking at his lips.

Draco raise one eyebrow, looks at Neville. “And remember, you have yet to handle my snake today.”

“When we’re home, I will slay your snake,” Neville promises with a quiet laugh. “Now go.”

Draco turns with a snap of his robes about his ankles, and as he departs the spells around them fall as well. The sound of the crowd comes crashing back in, but it doesn’t crawl up Neville’s spine this time or twist around his chest. He can breathe in now, and he does so, letting the air out again slowly after.

“Better?” Harry leans into him, and Neville takes his weight gratefully, loving that he can hold on.

“Much. But I’ll be glad when it’s done,” Neville admits. “I feel a bit like a dusty old trophy, brought out each year and hoisted in memory of old times, then shoved back on the shelf to be ignored. And I’d rather be ignored.”

“Me too.” Harry’s gaze drifts and Neville follows his gaze to see Draco in the midst of the crowd, happily chatting away and shaking hands, making friends and connections. “Someone else prefers to be on display.”

“We’ll put him back on his pedestal when we get him home,” Neville says. “For now we ought to go do what we were brought for. Sooner it’s done, sooner we can be home.”

“And back in bed?” Harry nudges at Neville, and Neville grins in answer.

He motions for Harry to proceed him and they are mobbed as soon as they step out, gathered in by well-meaning friends and pounced upon by those who want to remember the days when the war was won.

They are heroes here, the boys who saved the world and the ones who changed everything. Neville can survive it as long as he has Harry and Draco by his side, and soon enough they can go back home and just be themselves. And perhaps handle a snake or two.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
